


One Step Back, Two Steps Forward

by PhantomWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriter/pseuds/PhantomWriter
Summary: After a witch's spell, Sam's mind regressed to his twenty-five-year-old self.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55





	One Step Back, Two Steps Forward

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what's even the point of this.

Sam wakes with a pounding headache that gets even worse when he suddenly sits up.

“Woah, easy,” he hears Dean rushing up beside him. “Easy. Easy.”

Sam raises his hand that isn’t massaging his temple. “It’s okay. I’m fine, just the—” He looks up, frowns. “Dean?” 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, seemingly unsure as to what make of the reaction Sam gives him. 

Sam works his mind around the fact that, yes, this is Dean. Except he’s… “Why do you look older?”

“Excuse me?” Dean says. He spares a glance at someone behind him that Sam can’t see with Dean blocking his view. “Who’s older?”

“Dean,” a female voice interrupts. She clicks her tongue and stands beside Dean. She glances down at Sam. “May I?”

Sam’s rather taken aback when she asks for permission to touch him that he nods dumbly instead and lets her. 

He blinks up at the woman hovering over him. He feels a tad self-conscious when she touches his face and stares straight at his eyes.

“How are you feeling, Samuel?” she asks gently and Sam thinks his cheeks are heating up at her close proximity and her accent that does things to his stomach.

Which _isn’t_ the point here.

“Fine,” he manages, looking at anywhere but her emerald eyes. She doesn’t seem to believe him but lets him be. 

Who is she?

“And your head?”

“It hurts but not so much.” 

“Any spot on your memory?”

Sam frowns at the odd question and unsurely says, “No? What happened exactly?”

“You’ve been lobbed in the head with a spell,” she tells him casually. “And it seems like it hasn’t worn off despite the witch’s death.” She murmurs, “When it theoretically should have.”

"A witch?" Sam asks. "You mean, there's another one from the book club?” He turns to the older Dean. “Is that what happened to you? Are you alright?"

"The book club," Dean deadpans. "Ah, shit."

"I don't have any context here," the woman complains, rolling her eyes at Dean. 

"Book club. It was that suburban group of four witches. One died before we went to check it out, and the other one turned out to be Astaroth, the demon they made a deal with," the older Dean explains briefly to her.

Dean seems to trust her enough with Sam. Is she a hunter? In Sam’s opinion though, she looks delicate to be one. Someone with a knowledge of the supernatural, maybe?

His gut isn't giving him any warning so far. And if Dean trusts her, then so will Sam. They’re arguing between themselves, and Sam lets them, taking the time to study his surroundings.

He's in some room that isn't a motel. There's no window, but the space doesn't feel that suffocating. It's rather spacious and utilitarian. If he's to make a wild guess, it's like he's in a room of an underground bunker. 

He's about to ask them where he is when the woman quietly sits down next to him and asks, "What year it is, Sam?"

Sam doesn't understand this concussion check, but, oh, well, the quicker the better. "2007."

"Ah, shit," Sam hears Dean mutter again under his breath. "It's worse than we thought."

"Look, what's really going on here? The last thing I remember, you and I finished that witch-hunting and we're on our way back, then the next thing I know, I woke up here." Sam freely tells them. "Now, what exactly happened to me, Dean?"

The woman and Dean share a look, and Sam has to admit that his patience is starting to wear thin with this silence for every question he asks. 

The woman moves to pull out a thin square of sorts that looks like a flat cellphone at a glance that Sam might or might not have seen the likes before. It lights up with a click and she presents to Sam a digital calendar of sorts. 

It displays the year 2020. 

* * *

So.

They said his mind regressed back to his twenty-five-year-old self and no, he did not travel forward in time because apparently that was a common thing now in the last decade.

Fortunately, the curse is expected to wear off twenty-four hours after the witch’s death. The witch, who wasn’t one of those satanic witches from the ‘book club’, made quite a potent spell that hit Sam the last minute. 

And the rundown, of course, came from the redheaded woman earlier who also turned out to be another witch, powerful but someone on their side. 

“You’re a white witch?” Sam asked. 

“Hardly, darling,” the woman replied with a smirk. She poured him tea and that was it for introductions. 

Her name is Rowena, a pagan witch. And, see, this is where Sam’s mind begins to reel. 

He knows Dean never has a love for the supernatural. He will never trust them, that’s something he established a long time ago. It’s something that Sam is aware he can _never_ change in Dean.

Then why? 

Why is Dean suddenly so chummy with Rowena who is a witch, who blatantly flirts with Sam, and orders Dean around in which he rolls his eyes at but complies anyway?

Unless…

When it’s just the two of them a few hours later, he decides to ask: “Are you sleeping with her?”

Dean promptly spouts out his beer and chokes. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say once he clears his throat, eyes watering at the excessive coughing. “Are you seriously asking me if I’m sleeping with Rowena? _Her?_ ”

Why is Dean making it sound ridiculous in his ears when it’s a valid conclusion? “Yeah? I mean, she’s pretty. A bit older, but the you now is probably as old as her. And she has the… character, I think.” Sam smiles. ”And the fact that you don’t seem to care that she’s a witch makes me think there’s something more going on between you two—Don’t look at me like that, Dean. I’m happy for you.”

If that’s the case, Sam’s glad that Dean learned to open his mind to people like Rowena and the other people that are not inherently bad for what they are, be it human or nonhuman. 

Dean raises a finger. “Okay, first off, you have to stop with the ‘old’ and ‘older’. I’m only freaking 41 years old, Sammy.”

Sam’s mind is twenty-five years old. He thinks it’s only appropriate to think that Dean is older than the Dean he remembers, but okay.

“Second,” Dean continues. “I am not, never have, and never will be sleeping with Rowena.”

“Och. You make it sound like it’s a bad thing to think of,” came a voice that titters from the entrance of the kitchen. Dean groans at who it is. 

Rowena strolls in with her tight and glittering lilac dress and sits across from Dean and to the unoccupied seat to Sam’s right. The smile she gives them is feral and teasing at the same time. 

She turns to him, her expression softening considerably. “As much as your brother denies it, I’m pretty sure his codename for me is _It Happened Once In A Dream_.”

Sam huffs out a laugh at Dean’s sputtering. Alright, so they’re not together then, at least not the way Dean usually makes connections with women. 

Still, Rowena has to be somewhat important to Dean… and Sam, in a way that Dean actually broke his principles for when it comes to the supernatural by befriending her insofar that he trusts her with his and Sam’s lives. 

Oh. Maybe that’s it. 

Here Dean is, very much alive while Sam in his current mental age is still looking for a way to break Dean's demon deal. It means he actually gets past that wholly. It's either Sam did or will succeed in looking for a solution. 

"You're the one who helped Dean," Sam concludes, addressing Rowena. "That demon deal. You… You're the one who helped him—us—aren't you?"

Rowena glances at Dean briefly. "I did save your asses a couple of times, but I don't recall…"

"Right. You're from that time," Dean murmurs gruffly. "Jesus. That's like a lifetime ago." He sighs wearily before chugging his beer, oddly distant. 

"Goodie. That one," Rowena says. "No, Samuel. That wasn't me. Your brother's angel husband takes the credit for that."

Sam blinks. Did he hear that right? "Dean's what?"

"He hasn't told you about Castiel? And I thought it'll be the first thing he'll tell you. He's very proud of him after all."

"Who's Castiel?" Sam asks Dean. 

"Our friend," Dean says tersely. "Best friend," he corrects hastily.

"And he's…"

"An angel. Yep, Sammy, wings and all that."

"Oh. Cool."

"You're close to falling on your feet when you first saw him," Dean recalls amusedly. "Trust me. You're lucky he's in Heaven right now with Jack."

"Jack is the Nephilim of your brother and Castiel," Rowena chirps. She laughs at Sam's incredulous reaction. "No, giant, Castiel's vessel is a man. He and your brother can still do the tango but not the bun, I'm afraid."

Sam's head starts hurting. 

"That aside," Rowena continues when Dean is clearly about to fly off the handle, "Castiel saved your brother from Hell and so began the greatest love story of a human hunter and an angel of the Lord who eventually became a fallen angel. It's loads better than that despicable Twilight but cheesy romance is not really my cup of tea."

Interestingly, despite the grumbling and the scowling coming from Dean, he doesn't deny any of it. 

They're rather lenient telling Sam of the future events. Well, technically they already happened, and it's not like Sam can affect the timeline with the knowledge. 

Apparently, the world already witnessed approximately three Apocalypses so far and visited a total of two other worlds. 

And, oh, God was a dick and they helped in killing him. 

Sam actually likes to meet Castiel and Jack, but maybe it's for the best that they aren't around to make things even more complicated. 

The rollercoaster of a life he and Dean have in their years of hunting aside (and their multiple deaths in the span of it), Sam finds that he's at ease in this future version of his brother and Rowena.

He has a lot of questions, and they're more or less willing to answer each of them—well, Rowena, at least. 

"I wonder how interesting it would have been if I met you all those years ago," Rowena says suddenly while Dean's out in a supply run. Sam has to assure him that he'll be alright with Rowena. 

Dean looked like he had something to say to that but went out anyway. 

"I don't know. Dean would probably not trust you," Sam says. 

Rowena hums on her glass of bourbon. "That's just as well. He'll be an idiot to trust me on first meeting."

"I mean, trust is earned and all that."

"True. Especially if the first meeting was trying to kill each other, no?"

"You—" Sam starts. "Uh, I really shouldn't be surprised by now, should I?"

Rowena grins. "It's ironic, aye. A lot can happen in five years. You're trying to make a coven of your own and the next thing you know, you're allied with hunters, of all people."

"Wow," he hears himself say. "I'll be honest. I don't see Dean befriending a witch either. And don't get me started on the angel and the Nephilim." 

"Castiel and Jack," she reminds him gently. 

"Cas and Jack," Sam echoes. The names feel familiar on his tongue. 

"But you see yourself acquainting with someone like me, no?"

Sam shrugs. "Yes, but maybe a means to an end. Like Ruby."

Dean told him she betrayed Sam. Sam didn't have to ask what happened after. It changed him, that was for certain. 

"Did you know that she was a witch too?" Sam shares with her. 

"I've read the books," Rowena tells him. "You loved her too." 

Sam doesn't know what to say. 

"And that's your flaw, I think. You give your heart out so easily. You wear your heart on your sleeve that lesser people get to take advantage of it and stomp it down." 

"I'm not going to argue with that because," he smiles wryly, "you're right. I am like that. So I see the good in people and it's going to bite me in the ass later. I don't—I don't regret it," Sam says. "I know I changed, _will_ change. But I know that it's one thing that I did not and will not discard."

Rowena quietly regards him with eyes that are no longer glittering with mischief. There's a hint of sadness there underneath the surface. 

"I know," she says eventually. "I never said it, and I'm saying it now because I know you won't remember later, but I'm glad you keep that aspect of you despite everything." Her red lips quirk into a genuine smile. "I might have made fun of it before, but that's one of the many things I like about you."

She looks at him with an open expression that Sam thinks is meaningful with the Sam he's supposed to be. He's still in the dark about his history with this woman, and while he's very curious, will it be proper to ask her?

Rowena makes a move to stand. "I'll be turning in early tonight. Come knock on my door if you need anything from me, Samuel."

"Wait."

Sam is past the embarrassment at this point. "I just want to ask," he wets his lips, "You and I, are we—"

"Ask me again tomorrow," Rowena interrupts. "I… I'll have an answer for you by then, Sam."

Rowena leaves him, and Sam has a feeling she's talking about something else entirely. 

Not that Sam will ever find out what. 

* * *

Sam wakes, groggy, and instinctively reaches out beside him. 

She’s already awake, head propped by her elbow, and she’s carefully observing him. 

“Hey,” he says first, voice hoarse. 

“Hey yourself,” she greets back. “Had a good sleep?”

“Must be.” He frowns. “I don’t remember anything from last night. Did I get hammered or something?”

“Why? Any pounding headache? Stomach pain? Thirst?”

“Only thirsty but definitely not hungover.” 

Rowena’s face morphs into relief. “That’s good.” She sits up. “I’ll get you water. Stay there, Samuel.”

Sam takes her wrist and stops her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’ll get it later.” He thumbs her hand. “Can you… can you just lie down here with me again?” 

For a moment, he thinks she’ll refuse. She’s not one for cuddling, he knows that and accepts that it’s how it’ll always be for them: friends with a little—okay, so maybe not _little—_ bit of sex thrown in. They're both too old for the _friends with benefits_ set-up, but Rowena is rather adamant that it's not _that_ and lectures Sam that it's just how adults are, like Sam isn't one himself. 

It was supposed to be simple, and Sam made it complicated by wanting more, by telling her that he wanted more and what was stopping them anyway?

Rowena left him hanging afterward because it was not that simple after all. 

She acquiesces with his request and lies back on her spot. She doesn't bat Sam's hand and sidles to his side, her head on his chest. Sam pulls her close to him, wrapping his arms around her like a blanket. 

"I'm sorry I asked," he starts. "It was out of line."

"No, Sam. It wasn't." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry I walked out from that conversation."

"I understand, you know," Sam says. "You might have thought we were moving too quick or anything. It's okay, I'm willing to give you _—_ us a time."

"Funny. I personally think we've danced around this matter for too long," Rowena points out. "There's nothing wrong with you, Samuel. You know I'm not big on the date and _love_ thing, but with you… well, I can give it a try."

"Really?" 

"Hmhm. Fair warning that I'm not easy to be with, giant."

"To be fair, you're one of the most difficult people I know, and I'm brothers with Dean," Sam jokes. 

It earns him a playful swat on his chest and a scowl without heat. Sam finds her pouty makeup-free face adorable. 

"Seriously, though, thank you," he says, brushing her red hair fondly before swooping down to kiss the top of her head. "Thank you for giving us a chance."

"I know you won't waste it." Rowena looks up and tilts her head just right to meet him in a slow, unhurried kiss, the one of many to come. 

They'll be alright. 

**_fin_ **


End file.
